by Jeremy Bates
“Get the phone, Mel!” I said. “Answer it.”
She ran to the other room, disappeared from my view, and after a moment shouted, “It’s locked! There’s a chest or something in here. It’s locked.”
I pressed Hiroshi’s face against the floor, one hand on his temple, above his ear, one on his cheek. He was breathing quickly and with effort, his lips puckered into a fish mouth.
“Where’s the key?” I demanded.
He blurted a sound that may or may not have been a word.
“Key! Where’s the key?”
He scowled defiantly.
The phone stopped ringing.
Mel reappeared. “I couldn’t get it.”
“Come here,” I told her.
She approached cautiously.
“Reach under him and undo his belt.”
“To tie him up?”
“Yeah, do it.”
I rocked forward onto my knees, so my weight was off his back and fully on his shoulders. Mel tried to slip her hands beneath him.
She said, “He’s pressing his stomach against the floor.”
“You can’t get your hands under?”
“Hold on. Ow—no! He’s crushing them.”
I lifted Hiroshi’s head by the hair, then slammed it down.
“Don’t,” I told him. “Don’t.”
“Kono yaroou.” You shit—or something along those lines.
“Can you get it, Mel?”
“I’m trying…”
I slid an arm under and around Hiroshi’s neck and twisted him onto his side, locking my legs around his waist. He tried to reverse headbutt me again. I flexed my biceps, squeezing his throat tighter. My face was in his hair, which smelled faintly of wet dog and apples.
Mel crouched in front of us. He kneed her in the thigh.
“Watch his legs!” I said.
She fumbled with the belt buckle and said, “Got it!” She grabbed one end, stood, and pulled the length of leather free. I heard at least one belt loop tear, then she was holding it in front of her, at arm’s length, as if it were a dead snake she had proudly killed.
I yanked Hiroshi to his feet, keeping him locked in a chokehold, walked him to a chair, and shoved him into it.
“Tie his wrists, Mel,” I said.
She crouched next to us and grabbed one of his arms. He yanked it free.
“Stop it or I’ll snap you neck,” I hissed, applying more pressure to his throat.
On the second attempt Mel was able to pull both his arms behind the back of the chair and secure them with the belt.
“Is it tight?” I asked her.
“I think so.”
I released Hiroshi, ready to tackle him again if he tried to take off. He didn’t.
I examined Mel’s handiwork. The belt was wrapped around his wrists so tightly the edges of leather bit into his skin. If we left him unattended, he would be able to work himself free. But with both of us present he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Good job,” I said.
Mel nodded, wary, keeping her eyes on Hiroshi, as if he could still pounce at any moment.
I crouched in front of him. “Where is the key for that chest?”
He sniffed.
I slapped him across the face. “Where’s the key?”
He raised his eyes. They glittered darkly, insolently.
I stood. “Watch him,” I told Mel, and crossed the room.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back.”
I unlocked the front door, opened it, scanned the night. I dashed to the cutting block, yanked the ax free, and returned inside, locking the door again.
Mel’s eyes widened at the sight of the ax, but she didn’t say anything as I walked past her and Hiroshi and entered the bedroom. I grabbed the chest by an end handle and dragged it into the main room, where I examined the locking mechanism. It was polished brass and attached flush to the wood with an old-fashioned keyhole in the center. I gripped the ax like you do a baseball bat and swung it horizontally, striking the lock plate. Sparks flew and wood splintered. I repeated this three more times until the lock dangled brokenly.
I set the ax aside and lifted the lid of the chest. Inside were at least fifty wallets of all shapes and sizes, mostly men’s, black and brown, though there were larger female ones as well. None were new, and most were fat with bank cards and IDs and yen notes. Sprinkled among these were dozens of shiny wristwatches, a smorgasbord of multicolored cell phones, wedding bands, a couple glittering diamond rings, and several pieces of other jewelry such as gold and silver necklaces and jewel-encrusted broaches.
I was trying to make sense of what I was seeing—I think I did understand, but my mind was overloaded and sluggish and struggling with the eureka! moment—when Mel said, “He loots the bodies.”
“Damn, you’re right,” I said. “He’s a fucking grave robber.”
“He took our phones while we were searching for Ben.”
“But did he kill Ben?” I shouted at him: “Did you kill our friends?”
He only stared at the fire.
Mel touched my arm. “What about the teens?”
The teens. The goddamn teens. “What’s going on?” I blurted. “What the hell is going on, Mel?”
“We’ll find out soon. The police—”
“Shit!” I reached inside the chest and grabbed my cell phone. On the display, under missed calls, was Derek’s number.
I called it.
Derek answered on the second ring. “Childs!”
“Listen to me, Derek,” I said, “and listen closely.”
I summarized everything that had happened, beginning with our arrival at the base of Mt. Fuji and meeting Ben and Nina and ending with finding my cell phone in the ranger/grave robber’s cabin. At first Derek thought I was having him on and kept interrupting, but soon he fell silent and listened without saying a word.
“Jesus Christ, man!” Derek said when I’d finished. “This is—I don’t know what to say. What do you want me to do?”
“Is Sumiko with you?”
“She’s right here. We were about to grab something to eat.”
“Get her to call the police. Tell them they need to bring medicine for Neil and antibiotics and painkillers for the other guy. Then tell them to call me and trace my number and get out here.”
“She’s going to call them right now. This better be no joke, Childs.”
“It’s not. Call me back after you talk to them.”
“We’ll call you back right away.”
We disconnected.
“You think he was tricking us?” Mel said, nodding at Hiroshi. “When he was on the walkie-talkie, you think he was talking about the weather or something?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know what his connection is with everything that’s been going on. He could be a simple thief, or he could be… I don’t know.”
Hiroshi said something quietly.
I turned to him. “What’s that?” I said.
He began to chuckle to himself.
“Motherfucker,” I said, and walked purposely toward him.
“What are you doing?” Mel asked me, alarmed.
“Getting some answers.” I crouched in front of Hiroshi and grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands. “Who’s out there?” I demanded. “Who are those kids who killed our friends?”
His lips parted in a thin smile.
“The police are coming. I’m going to tell them everything. I’m going to tell them you killed my friends if you don’t tell me who’s out there.”
He spat in my face.
I yanked him toward me, causing the chair to topple forward. His knees struck the floor first, then his forehead. He cried out.
I kicked him in the gut. Mel told me to stop, but I ignored her. I kicked him again, harder, then swung him and the chair back into an upright position.
“Ethan, enough,” Mel pleaded. “You’re going to get in trouble.”
&
nbsp; I whirled on her. “Tomo’s dead, Mel! And this guy knows something. Fuck trouble!”
I tore at the laces of Hiroshi’s left boot, whipped the boot off, then retrieved the ax.
Mel went into a total fit. “Ethan, don’t! Don’t do this, think, please, Ethan, don’t do this.”
I stepped on Hiroshi’s big toe to prevent him from moving his foot.
He was no longer chuckling or smiling.
I choked the ax so I was gripping the haft a few inches below the head. I raised it and said, “Who’s out there?”
He tried kicking me with his free foot.
“Who’s out there?”
He muttered something.
I swiveled the ax in my hand so the blade faced the ceiling and swung the head like a hammer. The flattened butt crushed his little toe and every bone in it.
A scream exploded from his mouth. His eyes were manic, tearing up, his nostrils flaring, perspiration popping out all over his face.
I raised the ax again, the blade facing downward this time.
“Tell me!”
Nothing.
I swung. The blade sliced through flesh and bone and cartilage cleanly, severing his ruined toe. He wailed and thrashed against his restraints as blood pooled onto the floor.
“Stop it, Ethan!” Mel shrieked. “He doesn’t understand!”
“I can do this all night,” I told him, ignoring her. “One, two—”
“Okay!” he said. “Okay!”
I lowered the ax, but only reluctantly.
37
“You know history? You know Japanese history?” Hiroshi asked me after he had pulled himself together and we had plugged his toe-stump with a dishtowel.
I stared at him in amazement. Although his cadence was choppy and almost Yoda-like without the backward syntax, he spoke with a slight British accent, indicating he had likely lived overseas at some point.
In other words, he had played us as suckers.
“No?” he added impertinently. “Nothing?”
I grabbed him by the hair and jerked. “Talk!”
He tried to pull his head away, but I held firm.
“Long time ago,” he said, his eyes boring into me, “many Japanese do ubasute.”
I recognized the word—and then recalled that Honda had mentioned it back out front the train station. I said, “Families would abandon those who couldn’t feed themselves.”
He raised his white eyebrows. “Maybe you not dumb, huh?”
I jerked again.
“Okay—I talk!” He worked his mouth, as if to generate saliva. “Most Japanese, they stop ubasute one hundred, two hundred years ago. Most stop. Not all. After last war, it very difficult for Japanese. Very difficult. Many suffer. One family, they don’t have food for children, so they bring them to Jukai, tell them go play. Then they leave them to die.” He smacked his lips. “I’m thirsty. I talk. You get me water.”
“You watch him,” Mel said. “I’ll get it.”
She went to the counter, filled a glass from the plastic bucket, and handed it to me. I tipped it against Hiroshi’s mouth, half expecting him to make a sudden move. He swallowed, then turned his head away. Water spilled down his chin and onto his shirt.
“My hands hurt,” he said. “You untie?”
“I don’t think so,’ I said.
“Where I go?”
“Have you lived overseas?”
“You like my English?”
I didn’t reply.
“You English teacher, huh?” He nodded. “Yes, yes. Why else you come my country? I have many English teacher friend from my eikaiwa. I don’t talk them now. Not anymore. That long time ago. Sometimes I miss them. Very lonely here. Very lonely.”
I released his hair. “Tell me about the children,” I said.
He licked his lips, but didn’t say anything.
I slapped him across the face.
He scowled at me.
I slapped him harder.
“Ethan—” Mel said.
“Stay out of this!”
I brought my hand up.
“The family leave girl and boy in Jukai,” Hiroshi said, his voice croaky. “The girl, she die. The boy, he survive. He catch animals, eat berries. He smart boy. When he strong again, he leave forest, go his village. He thinks his parents forget him is accident. He thinks they happy when he comes home. They not happy. They still no food. They tell him go away. They don’t want. But he don’t go. He stays near village, in forest. He steals chickens, vegetables. And he sees girl. Very beautiful girl. She’s farmer man daughter. One day, she disappears. Nobody knows what happen—only me.”
“He brought her back here?” I said. “To Aokigahara?”
“This cabin, it built 19-7-3. I work here. My job, find the bodies. One time I find man. Maybe thirty. Maybe. I think he come here to suicide. I try to talk, but he don’t talk. He run away. I look for him, for his body, for one year. But I don’t find. He find me. He knows where my cabin. He lives here twenty year, maybe more. He knows forest very good.”
“What did he want with you?”
“He bring me woman. She’s dying. She made baby, but something wrong. Baby died, and she…she so much blood. I help her. Give medicine. Many days I help her. And I talk to man. His name Akira. He tells me everything. He tells me his parents leave him here, leave sister here. The woman he brings me, she’s farmer man daughter. He took her. He stole her. They make many babies before this one, but babies don’t live. They kill them. They don’t have food to give them.”
I looked at Mel, who was watching Hiroshi with disgusted fascination. I turned back. “What happened to his wife?” I asked. “Did she survive?”
“She die. I can’t help. She bleed so much. Akira, he go away. I don’t see him ten years. Maybe more. Then he comes back. He comes winter. Very bad winter. He has pneu—pneuma.”
“Pneumonia.”
“He has that. I give him medicine. He gets better. Then, two days later, three days, he comes back. He gives me so many gifts. Like that.” He nodded to the chest. “Jewelry. Wallets. But no phones. No phones then.”
“He took them off the bodies of the suicides.”
“So good idea, huh? I give him rice and sugar and salt. He’s very happy, very happy, and we continue to trade. Every month he gives me jewelry, money, I give him food, clothes. Finally he has good life. So he makes children. He has eight now. Only boys. No girls. He kills girls.”
“The kids we saw in the forest,” I stated.
“Yes, you meet already. I know.”
I rose to my feet slowly, shaking my head, dumbfounded at Hiroshi’s tale. A gypsy and his crew of ragtag children. That’s who’s been terrorizing us. I turned to Mel, to see her reaction, and found her frowning.
“You said his wife died,” she said. “So who—?” The color drained from her face. “Oh no.”
“He catches them before they suicide,” he told her. “Then he keeps them prisoner. Sometimes you hear them scream. You hear last night? She scream so loud.”
Hiroshi’s narrative—my longing for answers—had held me captive until now. But suddenly it was all too much. I thought of Ben and Tomo and all the shit we had gone through, and I had to resist the urge to pick up the ax again. I said, “And our other friends? Why did he kill them?”
“He wants women. He tells me yesterday, when he gives me phones, he tells me he sees beautiful women. Very beautiful.” Hiroshi smirked at Mel. “He calls you White Mother. You should be honor. He’s very excited.”
“So Nina…?” Mel said. “She’s not dead?”
“Don’t you listen? He don’t kill. He wants baby. He wants her baby, and he wants your baby.”
She blanched.
“Yes, yes, he comes for you,” Hiroshi said, “he comes for you right now.”
38
“Don’t listen to him, Mel,” I said. “He couldn’t know that. He’s lying.”
“Lie?” Hiroshi seemed insulted. “His children already outs
ide cabin. I talk them when I get water. They send message to father.”
Mel said, “What if he’s telling the truth?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. This Akira guy, he’s an old man. Has to be sixty now. I can handle him.”
“You think?” Hiroshi chuckled humorlessly.
“I took you out easily enough, didn’t I?”
“He and children like animal. They kill you so easy.”
My phone rang, making me start, even though I had been expecting the call. I answered it immediately.
“We called the police,” Derek said without preamble. “Apparently they already sent a team out there looking for you?”
“We called them yesterday with Neil’s phone before it died, but they never reached us.”
“Well, they said there’s only one ranger cabin in the forest you’re in, so they know where you are. They’re going to send the team out again now.”
“Tell Sumiko to call them back and tell them we need them here as soon as possible.”
“I’m sure they’re coming—”
“The people after us, they might be outside the cabin right now.”
“What? Christ! Okay, yeah, yeah, shit, I’ll get Sumiko to call them back right now. Stay inside and hold on.”
We hung up.
“The police know where we are,” I told Mel. “They’re coming right now.”
“How long will they be?”
“Not long—”
“Ethan!” she yelped, pointing at the front door.
I spun around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“What, Mel? What is it?”
“The doorknob! It was moving back and forth. Someone’s trying to get in!”
39
I hefted the ax and went to the door and double-checked the lock. It was secure. I peeked out the window and saw a low, dark shape dash between the trees before moving beyond my field of view.
I swore, pressing my back to the wall.
